


Feathers

by Ilral



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Bird/Human Hybrids, Multi, Unclear Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilral/pseuds/Ilral
Summary: 90 years after the fall of mankind and the isolation of the Nordic regions, a small, underfunded expedition sets out to chart the mysteries of the world long gone. Along the way, they find love, grief, and adventure.There is one difference, though--all of them are birds.Inspired by a fanart by the incomparable drepedetihjel (which was, in turn, inspired by a conversation on the Synchronized Screaming writing chat)





	1. Chapter 1

Tuuri ran a hand through her crest, trying to smooth the silky grey feathers out. They always seemed to stick up at times like this. She glanced over at Lalli. His crest was smooth, as always, and his wings were pressed against his back. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. I bet this guy’s really eager to meet us.” she whispered to him, trying to avoid being overheard by the people pressing in around them.

He replied with a grunt as the sliding doors of the boat opened and they rushed out into the terminal. It was hard to see through the throngs of people, but the illuminated timetables and hanging loudspeakers still crackling from the last announcement drew Tuuri’s eye immediately. It was only when she was nearly bowled over by one of the other passengers that they sped back up from a slow walk to a more brisk pace. 

She rifled through her pocket, searching for their tickets as they headed to a small glass breezeway that led to the train terminal. Near the end it pressed against one wall of the terminal, and she could see a few people waiting around the check-in area. 

There was only one group of three, though, consisting of a nervous-looking woman, an older man wearing an even more dated suit, and a young man with a messy crest and a splotch of gravy on his shirt. The two older ones had brownish wing feathers with black tips, while the younger one… his feathers were a shade of blue that she’d never seen before, except for his flowing gold crest, and unlike the others his tail appeared to be some kind of bundle of long narrow feathers, which he held behind him carefully to avoid any further stains. She couldn’t figure out which one of the two men was Emil. 

She tried not to look nervous as they passed through the automatic door into the train terminal--she still didn’t trust it not to close on them. The blue-feathered man moved to the front of the trio and held out an open hand expectantly. He must have been Emil, then. Lalli walked past him, moving his wing to avoid brushing it against the disheveled man. Tuuri hurried up behind him and grabbed Emil’s hand. “Hi! Hello! Hi! I’m Tuuri!”

“Oh, hello, I’m--”

“I know, you’re our cleanser, Emil.” She took a breath. “It’s so _so_ **_so_** nice to meet you and to finally be here- **hey nice plumage!** -and that was Lalli my cousin he’s not feeling well so don’t mind him i’m sure you’ll be **great** friends _and us too because you seem like a nice person your job is so interesting you know_ \--” Tuuri cut herself off. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, I’ll stop now.”  

“No, no, it’s fine.” Emil seemed distracted by something, and after a moment she followed his gaze. Lalli was sprawling out on a couch, his outstretched wings nearly bridging the gap between each armrest. He raised a hand to brush the long feathers out of his eyes, and Tuuri heard an odd rustling sound from beside her. She ignored it and walked over to her cousin.

“Lalli, we need to catch the train soon, there’s no time to relax.” He groaned and stretched his arms out to their full extent before standing up and folding his wings back behind him. They both looked over to Emil as he yelped in surprise. His tail had unfolded itself into a wide half-circle of feathers, about ten feet in radius. The very top of it brushed against the ceiling. 

The feathers looked odd,too. Each one was spindly for most of its length, with downy greenish-brown tufts extending from the shaft and overlapping to form a mostly-solid layer behind Emil, obscuring his two companions. At the tip of each feather, they widened out into tan ovals of tightly interlocking vanes edged in green, with a brilliant blue disk in the center of each one. The overall effect reminded her of hundreds of eyes staring at her, but it was also undeniably beautiful. 

As Emil tried to figure out what was going on, Lalli leaned over to Tuuri. “What’s up with his butt?” By this point, Emil was blushing beet-red, lending a pleasing contrast to his blue plumage. The cleanser rubbed his arm nervously as he shook his tail, trying to get it to retract.

“Don’t be rude.” she replied, trying not to stare at Emil herself. After a moment, she cleared her throat and spoke up. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Or a feather stylist?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine.” he stammered, now grabbing at his tail and trying to push it back down. Tuuri could hear muffled giggling from the two others behind him as it continued to stick out. Eventually he ended up simply glaring at the iridescent irritance, and as those assembled in the room all stared at him, it slowly folded back into a bundle of feathers. Behind Emil, the older man was covering his mouth to disguise his grin, while the woman was frowning and glancing at the timetables on the wall. 

“What’s so funny, Torbjӧrn?” he asked, looking to the older man and folding his arms over his chest. The plumage on them was sticking straight out. 

Torbjorn took a few careful breaths and carefully set his face back into a neutral expression. “Does your tail do that often, because I’m pretty sure that’s some kind of--” the woman next to him elbowed him and pointed to the clock on the wall. “Oh! Sorry guys, we need to hurry!” Torbjorn and the woman were almost to the door already, and Tuuri grabbed Lalli by the hand and made after them. “I’ll explain it once we’re on the train!”

 

* * *

 

 

Tuuri was beaming and letting out little giggles as Emil walked back into their compartment on the train, his shirt soaking wet but missing the stain. He shot her a curious look, as did Lalli. “Was that really a-“ she chuckled “-mating display?” 

Emil sat down sharply in the seat across from them before replying. “I don’t know! That’s never happened before!” He rubbed his arm again, plumage still sticking out. “I guess mom did say that it might happen someday when I, er, met someone that I liked?”

Tuuri laughed again, even louder, and Lalli gave her a strange look. She explained to him in a burst of Finnish, and after he replied--and smiled slightly--she leaned over the table separating them. “Lalli wants to know which one of us that is.” 

“Which--Oh!” Emil paused for a moment. “I’d... rather not say.” He leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms behind his head, but his eyes were still glancing about nervously. His crest rippled slightly, and he quickly smoothed it out. A few shouts of surprise echoed back from the compartments in front of them. He glanced out the window, then motioned for Tuuri to look. She finished translating for Lalli and glanced over. 

Beyond the window was a flat landscape of rocky fields and the occasional guard post. A long ribbon of chain-link fencing separated the tracks from the unsafe area. There were yellow warning placards dotted along the length, but here the train passed something much larger caught in the fence. A dead troll, about the size of a human but completely lacking arms, leaned up against the far side of the barrier. It was featherless, with shortened legs and long, ungainly wings. Smoke spiraled up from the spots where it was touching the metal, and it twitched slightly as the intense current flowed through it. 

Tuuri stared at it for a long moment. It was smaller than she’d expected from the stories; it almost seemed pathetic, despite its incredible physical power. “Wow, I’ve never seen one this close up!” 

Emil laughed. “Well, trust me, you don’t want to get much closer!” She nodded. Lalli was bumping his wing against hers impatiently.

“ What is it? ” she asked him in Finnish.

“ Why’s he so shy about saying who he likes? It’s obvious he’s got feelings for you. ”

She turned to him, surprised. “ No way, me? I’m likeable enough, but I don’t exactly inspire feelings of lust in the hearts of men. ” She cleared her throat. “ Or women. He’s totally after you, did you see how distracted he was while we were talking?”

" Yes, by you. " 

Tuuri sighed. Emil was staring at them, probably confused as to what they were talking about. She made a reassuring gesture, and turned back to Lalli for a moment. “ Tell you what, let’s make it a bet. If he confesses his love while we’re on this trip--and he probably will, when we’re stuck in some tent a hundred miles from anyone who’d overhear--whichever one of us he fell for has to… hmmm, how does doing the other’s chores for a month sound?" 

Lalli frowned at her." How on earth would you do my chores, Tuuri? You can’t even leave the base." 

“True. How about just a straight bet--200 kronor to the one he wasn’t after?” Tuuri rifled through her coat and pulled out a small change purse, which she dumped out back into the pocket before picking out a few coins and throwing them back in. She held it out to Lalli. He gave her a long look and dropped in his share of the bet. She did up the tie on the change purse again.

“Did you just make a bet about me?” Emil asked, still reclining in his seat and pretending to look out the window. 

"Sure did." Tuuri said, flashing a grin at him and tossing the purse into a different pocket of her coat. 

Emil leaned in towards them, wings fluttering a little. "What about?”

"I’d... rather not say." She replied, trying not to giggle at her own joke. It would be a few hours until Emil understood it himself, while he was sitting awake in the sleeper car half an hour past midnight. When he did, though, the answer was obvious. 

  
 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sigrun tapped her foot impatiently. By the gods, _what_ was taking them so long up there? She felt her wings make an attempt to flutter in irritation, and winced. They were still sore from practice that morning. She glanced over at Mikkel, wondering if he was sore too. Must have been, holding up that big heavy body, but he sure wasn’t showing it. There was a sound from the ramp leading up into the train station, and she glanced over sharply.

It would have been mean to point out, but the girl descending the ramp didn’t really look like explorer material. Her crest was pure grey, short and poorly kept. Her tail didn’t have good aerodynamics, her elbow vanes were more down than feathers, and her wings were almost too stubby to get her off the ground in the first place. She was squealing in glee as she looked around at the base. Oh well, Sigrun had already been looking forward to imparting her own style of fighting to her younger partners. A few extra sessions with this one wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Now, how had Dad introduced himself to the new cadets, back when he was doing that? Well, the first step in most situations was to walk confidently towards the person you were talking to. What expression had Dad done? Oh right, smile and-- Before Sigrun could set her face, the girl nearly ran straight into her. Her squeal was cut off, and she stared up at Sigrun, her face somewhere between astonished and terrified.

“Y-You’re so _tall!_ ” she yelped. Sigrun blinked at her, caught off-guard by the compliment. That wasn’t usually how the cadets had spoken to Dad.  

“Why yes, I am!” Sigrun took it in stride. “I like you already.” She tried to get back on track with the introduction, but the girl had already turned to Mikkel, who was introducing himself to the new team members. What a brown-noser. She glanced over to the other two new people who’d descended the ramp. One was a Finn with the plumage of some raptor--a merlin, or maybe a peregrine? He’d be a quick study with those wings, like she’d been. And the other… oh gods, was he some kind of pheasant? Whatever he was, those blue and gold feathers would make him hard to lose. And that tail, urgh. He seemed just as perturbed by it as she was, judging by how he kept glancing at it as the girl said something to him in a low voice.

“So, ah, Sigrun. Are you really a captain?” The girl shouted to her suddenly. How was it that this little waterbird was harder to predict than half the trolls she’d fought? “I mean, not just our captain, like an actual _captain_ captain?”

“Of course! You can’t have some shmuck trying to lead this expedition.” Yeah, that was it. She had to build up her authority fast so that the trainees wouldn’t question her instructions.

“Have you ever--” Sigrun cut her off. This was another easy question.

“Yes I have, I’ve even killed a few with my bare hands!” The girl protested weakly, but she continued. “I’m pretty great.” She turned to the other Finn as the girl gave her a confused look. Sigrun could already tell that they were all going to get along swimmingly.

 

* * *

 

Emil had never really considered his tail before. Sure, it had been heavy and occasionally it had knocked over a few dishes… or cats, but it hadn’t ever shown any sign of being more than a colorful bushel of feathers. And now that he knew what it could do, and everyone else knew what that meant, he wasn’t sure how to look at it. They had been pretty, yes, but there had been plenty of pretty people back in Mora, and he’d never _displayed_ for them. That was what his uncle had called it, and it certainly had felt like he was on display. When he’d gotten on that train last week, he’d never have guessed that any amount of staring could make him uncomfortable.

Mikkel coughed. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” His head was changing its angle subtly as he squinted down at Emil. It gave him the creeps.

“Y-Yes, actually. It’s about my tail.”

“Your… tail.” Mikkel stood up from the crate he’d been sitting on, and it creaked back into normal shape. Emil shrunk back against his own seat as Mikkel walked around behind him, the long feathers of the medic’s elbow vanes rustling against his coat.

“It, er, extended without me trying to make it do that a few days ago, is that normal?”

Mikkel ran a hand through the feathers, appraising them. Emil felt a prickle run up his spine. Mikkel scratched his chin for a moment. “No.” He shook his head, eyes downcast.

“What!”

“I’ve never heard of a person who couldn’t control their display behavior.” Mikkel had to turn away for a moment. “I guess you’ll just have to be careful about how much you think about people you’re attracted to...” He trailed off, pretending to be lost in thought.

Emil was trying to control his breathing. “How on earth will I do that, when they’re going to be with me every day for the next six months?”

Mikkel started, earnestly surprised by that reply. “Er, well, you might just have to avoid looking at them at all. Or at very least looking at them romantically--if you have something to distract you it should be fine. I think.”

Emil had completely failed to contain his panic, and was taking big gulping breaths while Mikkel stared at him, concerned. Oh gods, what a fool he’d been, to waste all his time on appearances when it turned out he’d always be unable to show off without… ugh, it was so awkward even to think about. Mikkel gave him a sombre look before turning around and picking up the crate he’d been sitting on. Emil got up and walked to the door while Mikkel got back to loading the tank. The medic was chuckling a little, but Emil didn’t see why. These would certainly be the most trying days of his life.

 

* * *

 

“So, Mikkel. Give me the down-low on these new recruits.” Sigrun leaned in a bit closer to him on the bench seat, away from Tuuri. She was an officer, after all, and drivers didn’t need to know what officers were talking about.

“I read thirty pages of dossiers on the ferry to Oresundboro. For each of them.”  He sighed. “You’ll need to be more specific than that, ma’am.”

“Well, let’s start with…Hmmm...” She glanced back into the rear compartment of their vehicle. The two others in their team were both perched on one of the desks, with the wind ruffling through their feathers. Lalli was curled up and had his wings wrapped around himself, while Emil gave him a queasy look.  “The blue one. Emil.”

“Emil Vasterstrom was a cleanser in the Swedish military, ranked Private at the time of his voluntary discharge to serve on this mission. The dossier mentioned that he’d attended several renowned private schools before his military service, but it did not say he had actually gained any useful skills from this.”

Sigrun stared at Mikkel, confused, which he mirrored blankly.“How on earth did you remember all that?”

“I studied for six years to gain my medic certification, and I still remember most of the textbook’s typographical errors today.”

Sigrun blinked. “Remind me not to get on your bad side. Anyway, all that stuff about Emil is great, but I was more wondering, you know, what in Hel’s domain he _is_.”

“He’s a peacock.”

“A _what?_ ”

“A highly colorful race mostly found in Sweden and parts of Denmark, and they’re pretty rare there too. I’d imagine he’s never met another peacock, with the possible exception of his parents.” Mikkel paused for a moment as the tank ran over a crumbling section of bridge and Tuuri swerved to avoid a large missing chunk of road. “Actually, I’d even doubt that,given the questions he was asking me earlier.”

“Cool, so he’s never met anyone else like him. Neither have I, though, and I would like something a little more useful than just where he came from.”

“Well, he was a certified cleanser, so he’s at least somewhat competent.” The two of them stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, listening to the crunching and creaking of the bridge.

“I did think you’d be interested in _what_ questions he was asking me earlier.”

“Nope, not really, but feel free to share anyway.”

“Well, peacocks have an interesting form of mating behavior where they extend their tails into a wide fanlike display. According to Emil, he’s only done this once, involuntarily, when he met the Hotakainens-- er, the Finns in the train station at Björköfjärden.”

“Bless you.” said Sigrun, grinning. Tuuri looked over at them, curious and blushing, then looked away again.

“Very funny. Anyway, he believes this indicates he’s, er, attracted to one of the two of them, though he declined to reveal which.”

“Hmmmm.” Sigrun glanced over at Tuuri. “Hey, you. Tuuri, wasn’t it?”

“Y-Yes! that’s me!” She seemed more happy to be engaged than surprised.

“How old were you, again?” asked Sigrun. Mikkel gave her a strange look, and opened his mouth to reply, though Tuuri beat him to the punch.

“Oh, I--”

Sigrun leaned across the center console, examining their driver curiously. “Like, 16? Tuuri blushed and turned her eyes to the road again, laughing nervously.

“She’s twenty-one.” said Mikkel.

“Oh! Good!” Sigrun gestured wildly with her hands to disguise her own relief. On the one hand, yeah! There was a chance! But on the other hand, dammit, this wasn’t part of the recruit training. Quick, quick, she needed think of an excuse! “And here I’ve been thinking that you were some kid with barely any experience at all. I’m glad I was wrong!” She turned to Mikkel for a quick aside as Tuuri dodged another pothole. “Well, I guess it really _could_ be either of them.”

“Y-yeah.” Tuuri replied, bringing them back into the middle of the road.  “But what about you?”

“What about me?” As Sigrun switched conversational partners, Mikkel sighed and tried to arrange his wings comfortably on the seat. He’d just have to bring her up to date later.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  This fic is based on Drep's incomparable art, shown above!


End file.
